"I can't walk today because I was looking for him all last night," the plaintiff replies.

At the judge's prompting, the two exchange words, openly expressing their disappointment and concern for each other's feelings. Ultimately Chris F., the defendant, is deemed by the jury to have prevailed. "Honestly, you're kind of being a bitch," Judge Upchuck upbraids Monroe, who is then compelled to spin the Wheel of Bone, a device that might pass for a fourth-grade art project. The sentence — "Permanent Peon" — calls for four fellow juggalos wielding semi-permanent tattoo markers to spend 90 seconds inking the loser's head and chest with scrawlings of penises and phrases such as "I suck dick."

Juggalos exhibit conflicted attitudes toward sexuality and gender. Psychopathic's roster is exclusively male (one female rapper, Tali Demon, records on Hatchet House, a subsidiary), and many lyrics (including songs penned by ICP) come across as downright homophobic. Yet fans will tell you the usage is purely metaphorical and that juggalos as a group despise racists and bigots. And while many female ICP fans refuse to identify themselves as "juggalettes," arguing that the term is degrading and implies promiscuity, others wear the label with pride.

Nate "Igor" Smith

Nate "Igor" Smith

"Girl, I would break your neden," a too-young juggalo is heard yelling at one woman in attendance. The term neden (pronounced ned-den) refers to the vagina, and in juggalo lingo is interchangeable with the word "pussy." The object of his affection smiles, seemingly flattered. Many women go topless at the Gathering, but their state of undress may well be due to the weather.

Another philosophical debate pits old juggalos against new juggalos. Some fans believe ICP has compromised its integrity by no longer regularly professing its love for Detroit. Others scoff at the duo's religious coming-out, expressed in a 2002 song called "The Unveiling."

By the same token, a website called Juggalo Holocaust stereotypes old-school juggalos as gang members who throw rocks and asserts that newer acolytes are polite and friendly fans of the music. The Gathering gives off the opposite vibe: The older fans in attendance are more talkative, welcoming and purposeful (having come to hear music and/or make money), while the young crowd seems more intent on screaming and ingesting psychedelic drugs.

At any rate, no one of any age was seen throwing rocks at any of the acts — though that has transpired in the past, most famously at the 2010 Gathering of the Juggalos, when the crowd pelted Internet-celebrity-turned-pop-singer Tila Tequila with rocks and feces. (One-man party machine Andrew W.K. suffered a similar fate in 2008, when he was hit with cans, plastic bottles and other objects, all the while exuding his trademark positivity, yelling, "I love you no matter what you think of me!")

It may be a coincidence, but performers at this year's Gathering seemed to make a point of pausing to introduce almost every song by thanking the crowd for welcoming them into the family.

And juggalos are, without question, a family. Scorned by people who do not understand them, maligned as crude freaks who live in piles of trash, they respond by celebrating and reveling in their outsider status. Much like the legions of counterculture movements that came before them, their "us versus them" stance is the tie that binds them together. The character of the "juggalo" itself, so openly ridiculous, is undeniably reminiscent of, say, the punk rocker, whose studded leather jacket and snarl obscured a wounded person looking for a way to cope with the sense of being a misfit.

The tarnished glory may have faded from the term punk, but in 2013 juggalos remain what they've always been: outcasts. And most of them wouldn't have it any other way.

Back at the Seminar Tent, Insane Clown Posse's session is drawing to a close. "Anybody want the notes?" Bruce asks. The crowd cheers as he wads up a sheet of paper and throws it. Fans scuffle for the artifact, and a lucky juggalo emerges victorious.

"We'll see you at ICP live tonight," Bruce concludes. "We love you, juggalos!"

Are you about fucking done with stories about these ridiculous fuckheads and the ridiculous fuckhead bands they follow? No one with a functioning brain gives a shit unless you can organize a juggalo event where all of these wastes of sperm and eggs jump en mass into the mississippi off the Eads bridge. Now THAT is a juggalo event I would want to witness! The cleansing of the gene pool!